Friday, November 9, 2012
A mind full of the same old stuff is the same as being empty. I'm brilliant and dumb, depending on the context, so how can I be anything at all? I grew up in a house where the sensory input conflicted with the narrative (analysts-speak), so it's no wonder I'm confused, always and forever. Stated in more concrete details: "You have a good and brilliant father who loves you" --- sensory input: a closed door, smell of aluminum, the hallway with the refrigerator (contents: Budweiser and decade old hunting meat) and at the end of it? A gentle shove off, and not much more. Dad = basement. When I got him to look up from his magizine it was like magic.